


Never Let Me Go

by Lucky107



Series: Rock 'n' Roll High School [14]
Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Class Differences, Conflict Resolution, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: It's the look someone gets when their heart chooses someone who's no good for them, but they're helpless to fight it.





	Never Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> Love Me Tender - Elvis Presley - 1956

**April, 2007**

When Gord arrives with a handful of flowers and a hesitant expression on his face, the only response Lefty can muster is a lopsided smile.  "Here to see An, huh?"

"No," he lies.  "I brought these on behalf of a mutual acquaintance."

Lefty nods in mute understanding and gestures to the vase - the _empty_ vase - on the bedside table, but makes no indication of getting up.  That puts Gord at ease.  He finds himself lingering in thoughtful silence as he arranges the bouquet.

An could be real stubborn about opening up and never said a word about her feelings to Lefty, but he had learned to read her like an open book.

In the ninth grade, when Johnny and Lola had just gotten together, Lefty saw it for the first time.  He had looked at her like a stray puppy dog, following her home and relishing in the way she made a fool out of him.  Lefty had seen it in Ricky, too, when he fell head-over-heels in love with that broad from out of town.  He was so blinded by her charms that he let her break his heart.

The way An looked at Gord was no different: it's the look someone gets when their heart chooses someone who's no good for them, but they're helpless to fight it.

Gord is here now, though, and Lefty can only wonder if maybe he's a little bit different from the rest.

"I gotta take a leak," he announces crudely and Gord's nose scrunches up with disgust.  "Mind sittin' with her 'til I get back?  I feel real bad leavin' her all alone, man."

"I _suppose_ not," Gord relents, but the idea terrifies him.

With her dark hair fanned out across the white pillowcase, washed and clean without a trace of grease, something looks amiss.  In spite of his natural repulsion for filth, he realises that the girl lying here in front of him really isn't An without it.

Only once the door closes does Gord take a seat at the bedside and he presses the heels of his hands to his tired eyes.

This marks the first time he's been alone with An since the rumble in New Coventry and, even as she lies fast asleep in a hospital gown, his heart skips a nervous beat.

No one knows for certain _what_ happened except that chump, Jimmy Hopkins, and he hasn't said a word about it.  Some rumors suggest she had tried and failed to jump a train on her bicycle while others hint that it was an accident that involved being rear-ended while hitching a ride on the back bumper of a car.  The only thing anyone knows, though, is that it happened in Blue Skies—whatever _it_ may be.

He would have come by to visit a lot sooner, of course, but every time he found himself anywhere near the place it was crawling with greaseballs who buzzed around her room like pesky flies.  From dawn until dusk she had at least one friend by her side and up until this evening that friend had not been him.

It's an unlikely twist of fate, or perhaps an elaborate and cruel set-up, that the sheets rustle then and catch him off-guard.  He lifts his head with surprise and there's An, eyes open and a small wave.

"An—"

"—mornin'."

Against the swollen scrapes and bruises her best effort to smile looks just awful and yet Gord's heart skips a beat.  There's something missing in her bright eyes - the steady supply of medication has left her docile - but even without all of the grease and the grime he sees the same old An in her smile.

"Thanks," she musters to clear the air.  "For comin' 'n' all."

But Gord shakes his head.  "Your _friends_ —"

"What?  We ain't friends no more?"

"I—"

"I'm teasin'," she interrupts and she beckons for him to come sit on the bedside.  "Honest, Gord, I'm real glad you came."

He takes a tentative seat on the stiff cot beside her and she allows her eyes to drift to the flowers he's brought.  She touches the leaves, the petals, with an affectionate, but trembling hand that only emphasizes her vulnerability.  "An, what _happened_?"

"Three broken ribs and a punctured lung, but s'far as I know I'm the first person in Bullworth's history to jump off the dam 'n' live," she lies with an airy chuckle and the warmth of her hand against his cheek draws his attention back to her battered face.  "Hey, cheer up, pretty boy.  It ain't like this is _your_ new mug, huh?"

But the joke is lost on him as he leans into her touch and kisses her.

Everything they said—and everything they didn't—is lost to the familiar touch of his fingertips as they ghost over her bruise-laden skin with a subtle delicacy.  The rest of the world fades away until the only thing left is each other.


End file.
